Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Moleskine pages- A Prelude To a Famine

The feast was a prelude to a famine. She was unknowingly their mother, their muse and their dessert. Music filled the fresh clean air. She was happy that they were happy. As evening fell, and the birds went quiet, a pathetic fallacy unraveled as the rhythms spelled out what couldn't be said.

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